


everchanging

by mitikune



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Reminiscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:07:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29797896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitikune/pseuds/mitikune
Summary: The rest of the SMP fell into place naturally.He watched everyone around him gain the things that he gained; friendship, love, family, and community. It was perfect. Everything was perfect.Why did it have to end?
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 37





	everchanging

It was natural for people to fade away from each other. It happened all the time. It was something that Dream should be used to. The natural order of being in love with someone, whatever that word meant in the context, and having them go. It was the way of life. Everything good, and everything worth something, will one day come to close. Life hurt that way. There was beauty in endings, sometimes.

He wished he could see that right now.

He wandered the SMP, all the bright colors seeming… grey. Everything that once brought life, light, just hurt now. Bitter reminders. All he ever wanted was to have some kind of a family. Some sense of community. A group of people combined together to face life’s cruelty head-on. That’s what he’d wanted. And for a while, he got that. The server gave him many things.

It gave him a childhood friend.

_ “Who are you?” _

_ The boy with the bandana lifted his head from where he knelt, scooping water into a bucket. His fiery red eyes at first startled Dream; they seemed like they were ablaze, like they were angry. _

_ The boy reminded him of the flame. _

_ “I’m Sapnap,” the child responded, slowly standing up, setting the water bucket at his feet. “Who are you? I didn’t think anyone else lived in this part of the forest.” _

_ “I’m, uh, I’m… well, my name is Clay, but people call me Dream.” _

_ “Dream?” The boy, now known as Sapnap, gave a childish little giggle. “That’s a funny name!” _

_ “Hey!” Dream had whined, pouting and puffing his cheeks, folding his arms over his chest in a stance any child would take, “what do you mean by that?” _

_ “I mean you’re funny, green boy!” Sapnap teased, stepping forward and poking his bright green hoodie. “You’re like a lime!” _

_ Dream huffed, “you’re mean.” _

_ “Hey, why is your face covered?” Sapnap abruptly asked, the attention span of a child ringing true, and harsh words forgotten. “You have a mask thingy on. It has a smile on it.” _

_ “I know. Puffy said I should cover my face, said that… it’ll mean bad things someday,” Dream shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t really know what that means.” _

_ “Oh okay!” Sapnap beamed, smile wide and bright as ever, “well, I have a friend back over here, his name’s George, you should meet him! He’s really sweet and shy and I’m trying to get him to open up to more people. You’d be a great help.” _

_ “George? Um…” Dream glanced at the sun. It was high in the sky, shimmering proud and boldly. Its rays beamed down against the two young kids, warming their skin to match the warmth of the hearth burning in their chests. “Puffy said I had to be home by night…” _

_ “It’s only noon!” Sapnap bargained, “come on.” _

_ Dream gnawed on his bottom lip, before shrugging. “Okay!” _

_ “Hey, can you fill this and carry it back? I’m supposed to bring water back, but it’s so heavy,” Sapnap whined, tossing Dream an empty bucket. _

_ The taller boy giggled. “What are you, weak? Weaknap?” _

_ “Hey!” _

Dream’s gaze focused on the trees before him, standing atop a cliff, gaze met with the treeline before him. The forest where he met his best friends; the two people that would ultimately mean more to him than anything else on this server. Any material thing, any other person, power, anything. 

It was always them. Sapnap and George, and him trailing along behind them. It was funny, Dream often was called some kind of “ringleader”, or the leader of the pack; the one to take charge and initiate, whereas Dream himself always felt like he was the one trailing behind. His friends were doing all these great things, and no one but him seemed to appreciate them. He always felt a little bit behind, pushing them forward, undeserving of the attention being cast his way.

His expression softened, and he tightened his grip on the bandana in his left hand. He missed them most, he thought. 

The Dream Team. 

Like it’s namesake, even it, too, faded away when reality set in.

Aside from the friends he made at a young age that stuck beside him and watched him grow, there was someone else who should be credited for watching Dream grow. For raising Dream, for being the one to be there for him on the sleepless nights, the tears over childish things, the one who led him along, if he was the one leading the others.

It gave him a mother. 

_ “Darling, you can’t keep following me around!” The lady crouched in front of him, and Dream was struggling to keep track of anything she was saying. His gaze was focused on the way the wool on the top of her head bounced when she moved. The way her eyes were sparkling, the way she was always smiling, the way she always seemed ready for the next adventure. _

_ She was never scared. _

_ Dream always felt scared. _

_ “Why not?” Dream had spoken up, tilting his head to the side as he stared up at her. “You’re really pretty, and you make me feel safe. You’re like a princess. Or a warrior. A princess warrior!” _

_ She had laughed, then; her voice honeyed and soft and tucked with all the layers of affection. Dream had giggled, too; glad to have made someone else laugh. “What’s your name?” _

_ “My name is Puffy, dear,” she had responded, gaze still everpresent, as well as those doe-like eyes. Atop her head were two small horns, and a set of ears. Dream wanted to touch her. He wanted to reach his hand out and place it against the bouncy wool that always caught his eye. He wanted to see how soft it was, wanted to feel her ears because they looked so different from his own, wanted to make the mistake of letting his fingertips trail over the tips of her horns. _

_ They looked dangerous, and sharp. It was the only thing about her that did. Perhaps that should tell him something; that she is capable of defending herself. As if the sword in the sheath at her hip didn’t tell him enough about that. “What is your name?” _

_ “Um… Clay. But people call me Dream,” Dream responded, rocking back and forth on the heels of his shoes as he stared up at her. “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.” _

_ “It is indeed! I’ve been seeing you following me around now for a while, is there a reason for that? Other than me being a princess warrior?” She grinned, and it was confident and bold and bright and beautiful and all of the wonderful things Dream saw in the world. It was like Puffy held the world in her smile, in her gaze, and she gave a little bit of it to him, every time he asked. _

_ “I don’t have anywhere else to go,” he confessed. “And I’ve seen you killing the bad guys. One swipe of your sword and they poof to dust. You seemed like you could protect yourself, so I thought, if I stayed close to you, maybe…” _

_ “...I could protect you, too.” _

_ It was less of a question, more of a statement. She smiled, but it was softer this time. It still held all the warmth of a summer's day, but with a gentle, loving reminder that she was speaking to a child. A child who was stranded; a child with nowhere left to go.  _

_ “Tell you what,” she said, and back was that bold smile that made Dream lean forward, smiling himself, “why don’t you come live with me? I can protect you a lot better there, than having you just follow me around like a little… duckling.” _

_ Dream giggled at the analogy, nodding his head. “I’d like that.” _

_ “Okay, duckling,” she stood back up, extending her hand for the small boy to take, which he did. “Let’s go home.” _

Things were simpler back then. Somewhere in the forest he gazed into, there was a wooden log cabin where they used to stay--not far, at all, from where George and Sapnap lived. They’d play every day, and each day Dream would catch Puffy sitting on a rocking chair on the back deck, sword still on her hip.

He never understood why she never let it go. It was always there, like she was always expecting a battle. He realized, now, that she had made him a promise. She had promised him safety, and she wasn’t going to fall through on it. 

He always admired her dedication, her prowess, her devotion and reliance. Whenever he needed anything, she was always there. When the nightmares began, she was always a sob away. She’d hold him in his arms, rock him back and forth, her skilled and delicate fingers making order of his unruly bedhead without ever hurting him, even if she knew that it’d just be ruined when he inevitably fell back asleep minutes later. 

He often did fall back asleep, but it was only because she held him close. He only really felt safe when he was with her, in her lap, with her arms wrapped around his small and shaking body. Even as he grew, they changed and adapted. When he could no longer fit in her lap, he would lay down, and let her wrap her arms around his torso with his head in her lap. 

She would still comb her fingers through his hair, but she would also sing. Her voice reminded him of a songbird, something familiar, something comforting and natural. An unspoken piece of nature that you don’t truly appreciate while it’s there, but will forever miss in its absence. 

What he wouldn’t give to hear his songbird sing one more time.

His growth with Puffy wasn’t the only thing that changed and adapted in recent years; his relationships with his friends, the friends he’d still held as close as the day they first met, began changing, too. Confusing, conflicting feelings began collecting in Dream’s chest, for the both of them.

For one, brotherly.

For one…

_ “The sunset is beautiful,” Dream breathed, “don’t you think?” _

_ George’s eyes were trained on the scene before him, and he let out a small, sad sounding laugh, that made the former turn his head to the other. “I’m sure it is.” _

_ “What do you mean?” Dream asked, “don’t you see it?” _

_ “I see it,” George said, head tilting the tiniest bit to the side. “But not like you.” _

_ “I don’t understand.” _

_ “I’m colorblind,” George turned his head to Dream, “I can’t see red, or things with red-hues. I can’t see orange, not really. The sky looks… well. How do you describe colors, or lack thereof?”  _

_ Dream’s heart sank. “So you…  _ can’t _ see the sunset?” _

_ “I guess not,” he confessed. “Not in the way you do, at least. Not fully. Not vibrantly.” _

_ They fell into a brief lapse of silence, and Dream began absently picking at the grass between his fingers, legs dangling freely off the cliff. It made Dream sad that George couldn’t see it in all its glory. Before he could really think about it, he spoke; “that’s okay, you’re not really missing out on too much… you’re prettier, anyway.” _

_ The statement took George by surprise, and his cheeks turned pink. Dream wondered, actually, if George could see that. If George could even see the brilliance that spread across his face whenever Dream complimented him. He smiled gently, looking back at the sunset, and George did the same. There was another moment of silence, before George broke it this time. _

_ “I know describing colors is hard, and I’m not asking you to do that--” _

_ “Oh, good. Cause I suck at that type of thing.” _

_ “--but… can you describe how it feels?” George asked, “the way the sunset and the colors make you feel. That tends to help me more understand beautiful things than people going out of their way to try to describe color to me. It’s like asking the impossible. This is more manageable.” _

_ Dream blinked, before taking a breath. “Yeah. Okay.” He focused on the sunset ahead of him, swallowing, before beginning to speak. “It’s like fire, but not in the sense of it burns, or hurts, or the heat is too much. It’s the warmth of a fire after being out in the cold. It’s the hearth, the loving, welcoming flame in a fireplace when you get home from a long day. It’s warm, yes, but not overbearing. A gentle reminder that you will not go cold tonight, that there’s warmth protecting you from the cold forces of nature’s night.” _

_ George gave a nod of his head, and a smile. “I get it… so you mean it feels like a wave of comfort? A wave of warm familiarity? It’s hot, and dangerous, but only if approached incorrectly?” _

_ “Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean,” Dream responded, turning to look at George. “You’re good at this.” _

_ “I’m speaking from experience,” George pressed back. “Fuck you, Dream.” _

_ “Wh- what?” Dream’s eyes grew wide, “Jesus, I thought we were having a moment--” _

_ “Fuck you. Because now I’ll never be able to look at a sunset without thinking of you. Do you know how many things you’ve taken over in my head?” George looked at him again, desperate eyes scanning his face. “Everything you touch, everything you speak about--it becomes you, Dream. This world is slowly becoming you, little by little, every day. It’s cruel.” _

_ “Why?” _

_ “Because you’re take over everything, yet you’re the one thing that I want. You have it all, and all I want is you, and I can’t have that.” _

_ The words hung in the air, tension heavy enough to touch. “Why not?” Dream breathed, inching himself marginally closer. “What makes you say that you aren’t  _ my _ world? What’s to say that I don’t want anything  _ but _ you?” _

_ “You don’t mean that,” George whispered, his eyes moving from his eyes, trailing downwards towards the lips that spoke pretty little lies. _

_ “I do, George. I’ve never meant anything more,” Dream prayed his voice wouldn’t be swept away by the wind. It was private, it was only for George. Something sacred. A dirty little secret. A guilty pleasure. It was time to indulge.  _

_ “Then take it,” George replied, eyelids fluttering as he turned his head to the side, “what’re you waiting for? Take me. Take what’s yours.” _

_ Lips collided, and even the sun dipped over the horizon to give them their privacy. _

What a night that had been. It’d taken place right here, right where he stood right now, staring down at the forest. He remembered the sunset, watching it hang still in the sky, describing the feeling of home towards George, as if he had any clue what he was saying.

This very SMP gave him a lover.

A lifetime long partner that he’d do anything for--and god, would he. He’d fight any monster, slay any beast, he’d kill God if it meant keeping George safe. Wherever Dream went, he was never alone, not anymore. George was tucked to his hip, only an embrace away whenever he needed him, and to the other side was Sapnap. 

The rest of the SMP fell into place naturally. 

He watched everyone around him gain the things that he gained; friendship, love, family, and community. It was perfect. Everything was perfect.

Why did it have to end?

Dream slowly dropped down to sit on the edge of the cliff, like he had the night he first kissed George, claimed him as his own. The grass still felt the same, the sun still looked the same. Everything was the same, but duller. Blander. 

The laughter had faded. The constant chatter, the yelling somewhere in the distance, the new buildings that seemed to sprout up overnight… gone. Reduced to nothing but a memory. 

He understood that all good things must come to an end, but why now?

Why this?

He thought, while his life was constantly changing, that this would be the one thing that would be forever. It was his safe place, it was his home. Home isn’t supposed to crumble. Family isn’t supposed to vanish. Love isn’t supposed to end. Happy ever after isn’t supposed to be snatched away once it’s presented.

Everything had been perfect. 

And now everything meant very little at all.

  
  



End file.
